Ace
02-25-2009, 02:58 PM
Long time, no write everyone, but I'll get straight to the point:
My Lesson On Life
By Paul Vermette
Tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick... tick-tick... tick-tick,tick-tick.
The eight of them sat around me in steel framed cheers, six of which wobbled and made a thick-bodied “tick-tick” when the seatee leaned back into a wobble, panicked, and sat their arse out backwards only to “tick” the floor with the unbalanced rear leg and immediately “tick” the unbalanced front leg down, hence the “tick-tick”.
Tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick.
You'd think they would stop, but no, they did not. It was clear all were nervous.
Tick-tick. Tick-tick. Tick-tick.
Four of them were sweating profusely, two moderately, and two had apparently not sweat at all. Who knows what any of them were thinking, they all looked solemn and somber. It was depressing.
Tick-tick... Tick-tick... Tick-tick...
It was like being near death. I had been in the war and I, like so many God damned movie heroes, held a friend in my arms as he bleed to death. The way he just... well, slunked is the damned closest word to use, even if it isn't one... he just slunked and he was gone.
Tick-...
We had settled up in a little Vietnamese equivalent to a villa with a small straw hut strewn village connected to it. The villa looked as if it had barely survived the Indochina War and had three floors and one basement. Since the basement leaked and the ceiling was filled with holes (or the holes were patched with some ceiling) the officers took the second floor while the NCOs got the first floor and upstairs and the non-ops like our chaplain and the journalist got the basement.
Everything had been going well for the past week. We had just finished one last 4-day sweep of the bush before retreating into the village and villa and sending soldiers off to R&R. There were some casualties on the sweep of course, so I had to cancel a few of the mens passes to leave.
I left some of the harder working and more stressed soldiers with a promise that they would go on R&R the day after securing the village no matter what happened while the company was there. They did not believe me and I didn't blame them, but I don't break promises.
Then there were some of the men who deserved R&R and had passes that I might need as replacements for anyone staying that become a casualty. I said nothing to them and let them hope.
One of these men was a same-hometown-as-me Staff Sergeant by the name of Benjamin Green. Damn good NCO, 100% combat effective at the time. After R&R he was to be promoted to Sergeant First Class by me personally. I was looking to get him up to First Sergeant after that cold prick Finnegan either died or got promoted, the more likely of either being the latter. And if I got promoted in the process, then I had a plan to rank him up to at least Sergeant Major so he could continue as my own personal aide in a way.
Their was a presence in the village that I could not quite identify, yet I knew what the presence meant. Men would die. I could smell it through the foliage, in the dirt, on the men themselves.
Naturally, I gathered the troops and told them that Intel had said a large group (40 or so) of NVA (North Vietnamese Army regulars) were trekking towards our little village, expecting to be greeted by rice balls, a few chicken, and the 23 AK-47s we found buried under one of the huts.
Of course I made up the part about Intel and the NVA, but with the 23 AKs we REALLY did find it was easy enough for the troops to believe me and it irked the Hell out of me. Why did I do it? To keep 'em sharp. Guys ready to go on R&R slack off and men get killed, so you tell them the night before they leave that there WILL be combat that night. That way, if something really does show up, you got the gun and the jump on 'em because the grunts were too scared to sleep so they were ready.
The sticky part is the NCOs. Most are NCOs because they've simply survived long enough. If you survive long enough, you learn the officer's tricks and can beat the system. That's usually how an American fighting force is destroyed: one NCO thinking he can nod off since there really won't be an attack.
Now, Ben-G (Benji + G) came out of boot a corporal, so he was one of the few truly smart NCOs who were familiar with my plan. The thing is, he was such a good soldier that no matter what I said he was always on the hunt. I don't think he closed his eyes once during his tour.
Anyways, there was only one road that entered into the village, the rest of the ways one could arrive were footpath. I decided to post one NCO and one private to watch the road at all times. If we controlled the road it would eliminate a large scale, short timed attack.
Once everything had been settled in the village, the soldiers not on watch began to relax a little and put their free time to good use. PFC Hendricks had fashioned his boots with large, dull green leaves that wrapped around the entire outside of the boot except the bottom. The leaves didn't even get in the way of tying the laces and Hendricks was telling everyone that since he'd done it he hadn't had wet feet during a rain storm. No matter how hard any else tried to get similar results they could not and they got their feet wet trying to test it out.
I did not go into the Villa once out of fear. I don't know what it was about it, but I could not allow myself to enter. Of course, the two 2nd lieutenants under my command laughed at me, but I just told them to **** off and I went on to find my sleeping spot.
I opted to sleep outside in a foxhole, so I dug for two hours until the hole was deep enough for me to curl into yet shallow enough for me to get out quickly if necessary. A few men made foxholes around me, including Ben-G.
The sun went down and the jungle erupted in noises. Natural noises, critters of the night, screeching and howling and squawking.
I woke up with the sun shining in my face. I hadn't slept that long in weeks and I was relieved to know I didn't have to wake up during the night. I got up, pissed, and went about the village to talk to some men and find my Finnegan.
He had stayed awake the entire night and updated me not by responding when I asked for a sitrep, but just staring me cold in the eyes until I understood. That millisecond seemed to break off a piece of my ribs and jab it into my heart, bleeding out any hope that I had for anyone and myself.
I turned around to go to the villa and -POP... POP-BAMshhhhhhhh- sounded from the road. Finnegan tapped my arm as he sprinted towards the road and I followed him, shouting orders to different soldiers as I went.
Finnegan, like the snake he is, got there a full minute before me.
In front of me were two soldiers, one smiling Sergeant and one clearly shaken Private. In the road was a mangled heap of flesh with specks of bone and blood spotted everywhere.
“What happened here, Sergeant?” I addressed the smiling soldier.
“Well, Sir, me and Flops, this good ole' boy right here next to me,” he said, reaching his arm around the neck of the Private, “we were just watching the road, like you said. And the sun starts coming up this morning and we see this figure walking slowly towards us. Every five steps or so, this figure bends over for about 10 seconds, stands up, and starts shuffling forward again.
We started gettin' antsy, specially my boy right here, and we call out to the figure. It stands up and a woman's voice says something in Vietnamese and she waves a hand. Now, I'm thinkin' 'Ain't nothin' wrong with a hard workin' slant' but Flops starts gettin' nervous and such.
He keeps sayin' to me, 'I don't like this, I don't trust her. What's she bending over for? It ain't right, somethin' ain't right.' and I just keep tellin' him that's she must be just clearing rocks or some such.
But no matter what I say, good ole' Flops is on guard, watching this ***** takin' five steps, bending down, and startin' over again. I got bored with her, honest, and I start lookin' for other interestin' things.
I see she's about fitty yards away when all a sudden Flops raises his rifle and pops a round off. The ***** stands up and drops what she had been holdin' and Flops shoots again, and WHAM! She ****in' explodes! That backpack she had on her musta been full a mines and she'd been planting um right in front of us the entire time.
If it weren't for good ole' Flops here, she could have planted all them mines and gotten guys killed.”
When he finished he was smiling wider than before and patting a sobbing Flops on the back. I turned to the private and lifted his head to look him in the face.
At first he avoids my face, then he looks directly into my eyes. I see it in him, I see the fever. He's no use in the bush for a while, maybe never again.
“Private, take a walk with me.”
I take the private into one of the straw huts and try talking to him but he just won't respond, won't even look at me again. He's in shock and doesn't stop his tears the entire five minutes I spent with him.
So I call for Finnegan and tell him the Private is going on R&R. Finnegan gets pissed, assuming he's lost his R&R when he's one of the men I promised, but I reassure him it won't be him but one of the other men whom I didn't promise.
We look through the names of those to leave the village later and I finally decide on a soldier who deserves a break but doesn't necessarily need one and maybe doesn't even want one: Staff Sergeant Benjamin Green. I tell Finnegan to deliver the news that Ben-G'd be staying while the practically comatose Private would take his place on the chopper. I didn't want to have to face Ben, knowing him from High School and all.
The rest of the day goes with only one hitch, which is that the choppers didn't bring us any new boots or hammocks, but it is minor and happens all the time and I stopped getting upset over the dumb **** the Army pulls after my second month in 'Nam.
I avoid Ben-G the rest of the evening, talking to different soldiers and doing miscellaneous tasks to pass the time. When the sun starts to set I head towards my foxhole, where Ben-G is waiting. My memory is always distorted from when I was angry, and he got me angry with his remarks, so I can't recall the conversation. I remember it ended with, “I am your superior, so you **** yourself.”
We head into our holes and I set me head to sleep but I can't because of the anger still billowing in my mind.
It's dark and the noises start again.
The familiar sounds start caressing me to sleep...
-Clunk... Clunk...
The faint metallic sounds in the distance wake me up out of familiarity. I hunker down as best I can and wait for the
-CRASH... CRASH...
Two mortar rounds landed right near me and the Earth vomited dirt and dust onto my face.
I stand up and clear out of my hole and see the smoke rising to my left. Very foolishly, I rush towards the spot to see if anyone is hit.
I stop at one hole. There had been a soldier in it but now there was just black and red sand with bits of metal and US Army materials left in it. I call for the Medic so he can at least verify the dead and yell to Finnegan to get the line sharp.
I stood at the hole for a few seconds, just breathing deeply to calm myself, when I hear a soft gurgling behind me. I turn around and see a foxhole 5 yards away and I walk to it. I am afraid of what I will see but I know I might be able to help if someone is hurt.
As I get closer I can hear blood bubbling out of a mouth that is trying to speak. I lean over into the hole and shine my red-tinted lamp into the hole.
I feel the guilt and regret immediately.
Staff Sergeant Benjamin Green is slumped in the dirt, blood flooding out of a gaping, ragged tear above his Adams apple. The red lamp makes him look like his uniform is meant to be red, when it is really his life blood coating his US Army standard issue uniform.
I turn off the lamp and pull him out of the hole. I lay his shoulder and head on my lap and look him in the eyes. It's dark, but we see each other in the purest form of being. He opens his mouth and tries to say something and blood squirts out of his neck on my chest and dribbles out of his mouth. I just keep saying different comforting things because I am panicking and don't know what to do.
It will be okay, choppers coming, everything's cool, keep in there Ben-G, keep in there.
His feebly grabs at my chest and starts to choke. His lungs have begun filling with his blood and he is having difficulty breathing. It is amazing in the most atrocious way that he is still alive.
Don't worry brother, we got them, you're going home soon, bird's on its way.
His eyes keep moving and keep looking straight into mine as he slowly drowns in his own blood.
Hey, it's halftime. Get your head in the ****ing game, Ben, get in the ****ing game!
His hands start to close and his arms curl into his chest. He closes his mouth, stares me in the eyes...
Tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick.
Look at them. They know nothing of life yet assume they know about death. They know nothing but how to pretend to live and be content. Reality has never hit them, they have never experienced death and there is no other way to learn about it.
I will teach them all about life, and death, as Ben-G taught me. I will bring them to reality.
They never told me I'd hear my own heart flat line...
My Lesson On Life
By Paul Vermette
Tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick... tick-tick... tick-tick,tick-tick.
The eight of them sat around me in steel framed cheers, six of which wobbled and made a thick-bodied “tick-tick” when the seatee leaned back into a wobble, panicked, and sat their arse out backwards only to “tick” the floor with the unbalanced rear leg and immediately “tick” the unbalanced front leg down, hence the “tick-tick”.
Tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick.
You'd think they would stop, but no, they did not. It was clear all were nervous.
Tick-tick. Tick-tick. Tick-tick.
Four of them were sweating profusely, two moderately, and two had apparently not sweat at all. Who knows what any of them were thinking, they all looked solemn and somber. It was depressing.
Tick-tick... Tick-tick... Tick-tick...
It was like being near death. I had been in the war and I, like so many God damned movie heroes, held a friend in my arms as he bleed to death. The way he just... well, slunked is the damned closest word to use, even if it isn't one... he just slunked and he was gone.
Tick-...
We had settled up in a little Vietnamese equivalent to a villa with a small straw hut strewn village connected to it. The villa looked as if it had barely survived the Indochina War and had three floors and one basement. Since the basement leaked and the ceiling was filled with holes (or the holes were patched with some ceiling) the officers took the second floor while the NCOs got the first floor and upstairs and the non-ops like our chaplain and the journalist got the basement.
Everything had been going well for the past week. We had just finished one last 4-day sweep of the bush before retreating into the village and villa and sending soldiers off to R&R. There were some casualties on the sweep of course, so I had to cancel a few of the mens passes to leave.
I left some of the harder working and more stressed soldiers with a promise that they would go on R&R the day after securing the village no matter what happened while the company was there. They did not believe me and I didn't blame them, but I don't break promises.
Then there were some of the men who deserved R&R and had passes that I might need as replacements for anyone staying that become a casualty. I said nothing to them and let them hope.
One of these men was a same-hometown-as-me Staff Sergeant by the name of Benjamin Green. Damn good NCO, 100% combat effective at the time. After R&R he was to be promoted to Sergeant First Class by me personally. I was looking to get him up to First Sergeant after that cold prick Finnegan either died or got promoted, the more likely of either being the latter. And if I got promoted in the process, then I had a plan to rank him up to at least Sergeant Major so he could continue as my own personal aide in a way.
Their was a presence in the village that I could not quite identify, yet I knew what the presence meant. Men would die. I could smell it through the foliage, in the dirt, on the men themselves.
Naturally, I gathered the troops and told them that Intel had said a large group (40 or so) of NVA (North Vietnamese Army regulars) were trekking towards our little village, expecting to be greeted by rice balls, a few chicken, and the 23 AK-47s we found buried under one of the huts.
Of course I made up the part about Intel and the NVA, but with the 23 AKs we REALLY did find it was easy enough for the troops to believe me and it irked the Hell out of me. Why did I do it? To keep 'em sharp. Guys ready to go on R&R slack off and men get killed, so you tell them the night before they leave that there WILL be combat that night. That way, if something really does show up, you got the gun and the jump on 'em because the grunts were too scared to sleep so they were ready.
The sticky part is the NCOs. Most are NCOs because they've simply survived long enough. If you survive long enough, you learn the officer's tricks and can beat the system. That's usually how an American fighting force is destroyed: one NCO thinking he can nod off since there really won't be an attack.
Now, Ben-G (Benji + G) came out of boot a corporal, so he was one of the few truly smart NCOs who were familiar with my plan. The thing is, he was such a good soldier that no matter what I said he was always on the hunt. I don't think he closed his eyes once during his tour.
Anyways, there was only one road that entered into the village, the rest of the ways one could arrive were footpath. I decided to post one NCO and one private to watch the road at all times. If we controlled the road it would eliminate a large scale, short timed attack.
Once everything had been settled in the village, the soldiers not on watch began to relax a little and put their free time to good use. PFC Hendricks had fashioned his boots with large, dull green leaves that wrapped around the entire outside of the boot except the bottom. The leaves didn't even get in the way of tying the laces and Hendricks was telling everyone that since he'd done it he hadn't had wet feet during a rain storm. No matter how hard any else tried to get similar results they could not and they got their feet wet trying to test it out.
I did not go into the Villa once out of fear. I don't know what it was about it, but I could not allow myself to enter. Of course, the two 2nd lieutenants under my command laughed at me, but I just told them to **** off and I went on to find my sleeping spot.
I opted to sleep outside in a foxhole, so I dug for two hours until the hole was deep enough for me to curl into yet shallow enough for me to get out quickly if necessary. A few men made foxholes around me, including Ben-G.
The sun went down and the jungle erupted in noises. Natural noises, critters of the night, screeching and howling and squawking.
I woke up with the sun shining in my face. I hadn't slept that long in weeks and I was relieved to know I didn't have to wake up during the night. I got up, pissed, and went about the village to talk to some men and find my Finnegan.
He had stayed awake the entire night and updated me not by responding when I asked for a sitrep, but just staring me cold in the eyes until I understood. That millisecond seemed to break off a piece of my ribs and jab it into my heart, bleeding out any hope that I had for anyone and myself.
I turned around to go to the villa and -POP... POP-BAMshhhhhhhh- sounded from the road. Finnegan tapped my arm as he sprinted towards the road and I followed him, shouting orders to different soldiers as I went.
Finnegan, like the snake he is, got there a full minute before me.
In front of me were two soldiers, one smiling Sergeant and one clearly shaken Private. In the road was a mangled heap of flesh with specks of bone and blood spotted everywhere.
“What happened here, Sergeant?” I addressed the smiling soldier.
“Well, Sir, me and Flops, this good ole' boy right here next to me,” he said, reaching his arm around the neck of the Private, “we were just watching the road, like you said. And the sun starts coming up this morning and we see this figure walking slowly towards us. Every five steps or so, this figure bends over for about 10 seconds, stands up, and starts shuffling forward again.
We started gettin' antsy, specially my boy right here, and we call out to the figure. It stands up and a woman's voice says something in Vietnamese and she waves a hand. Now, I'm thinkin' 'Ain't nothin' wrong with a hard workin' slant' but Flops starts gettin' nervous and such.
He keeps sayin' to me, 'I don't like this, I don't trust her. What's she bending over for? It ain't right, somethin' ain't right.' and I just keep tellin' him that's she must be just clearing rocks or some such.
But no matter what I say, good ole' Flops is on guard, watching this ***** takin' five steps, bending down, and startin' over again. I got bored with her, honest, and I start lookin' for other interestin' things.
I see she's about fitty yards away when all a sudden Flops raises his rifle and pops a round off. The ***** stands up and drops what she had been holdin' and Flops shoots again, and WHAM! She ****in' explodes! That backpack she had on her musta been full a mines and she'd been planting um right in front of us the entire time.
If it weren't for good ole' Flops here, she could have planted all them mines and gotten guys killed.”
When he finished he was smiling wider than before and patting a sobbing Flops on the back. I turned to the private and lifted his head to look him in the face.
At first he avoids my face, then he looks directly into my eyes. I see it in him, I see the fever. He's no use in the bush for a while, maybe never again.
“Private, take a walk with me.”
I take the private into one of the straw huts and try talking to him but he just won't respond, won't even look at me again. He's in shock and doesn't stop his tears the entire five minutes I spent with him.
So I call for Finnegan and tell him the Private is going on R&R. Finnegan gets pissed, assuming he's lost his R&R when he's one of the men I promised, but I reassure him it won't be him but one of the other men whom I didn't promise.
We look through the names of those to leave the village later and I finally decide on a soldier who deserves a break but doesn't necessarily need one and maybe doesn't even want one: Staff Sergeant Benjamin Green. I tell Finnegan to deliver the news that Ben-G'd be staying while the practically comatose Private would take his place on the chopper. I didn't want to have to face Ben, knowing him from High School and all.
The rest of the day goes with only one hitch, which is that the choppers didn't bring us any new boots or hammocks, but it is minor and happens all the time and I stopped getting upset over the dumb **** the Army pulls after my second month in 'Nam.
I avoid Ben-G the rest of the evening, talking to different soldiers and doing miscellaneous tasks to pass the time. When the sun starts to set I head towards my foxhole, where Ben-G is waiting. My memory is always distorted from when I was angry, and he got me angry with his remarks, so I can't recall the conversation. I remember it ended with, “I am your superior, so you **** yourself.”
We head into our holes and I set me head to sleep but I can't because of the anger still billowing in my mind.
It's dark and the noises start again.
The familiar sounds start caressing me to sleep...
-Clunk... Clunk...
The faint metallic sounds in the distance wake me up out of familiarity. I hunker down as best I can and wait for the
-CRASH... CRASH...
Two mortar rounds landed right near me and the Earth vomited dirt and dust onto my face.
I stand up and clear out of my hole and see the smoke rising to my left. Very foolishly, I rush towards the spot to see if anyone is hit.
I stop at one hole. There had been a soldier in it but now there was just black and red sand with bits of metal and US Army materials left in it. I call for the Medic so he can at least verify the dead and yell to Finnegan to get the line sharp.
I stood at the hole for a few seconds, just breathing deeply to calm myself, when I hear a soft gurgling behind me. I turn around and see a foxhole 5 yards away and I walk to it. I am afraid of what I will see but I know I might be able to help if someone is hurt.
As I get closer I can hear blood bubbling out of a mouth that is trying to speak. I lean over into the hole and shine my red-tinted lamp into the hole.
I feel the guilt and regret immediately.
Staff Sergeant Benjamin Green is slumped in the dirt, blood flooding out of a gaping, ragged tear above his Adams apple. The red lamp makes him look like his uniform is meant to be red, when it is really his life blood coating his US Army standard issue uniform.
I turn off the lamp and pull him out of the hole. I lay his shoulder and head on my lap and look him in the eyes. It's dark, but we see each other in the purest form of being. He opens his mouth and tries to say something and blood squirts out of his neck on my chest and dribbles out of his mouth. I just keep saying different comforting things because I am panicking and don't know what to do.
It will be okay, choppers coming, everything's cool, keep in there Ben-G, keep in there.
His feebly grabs at my chest and starts to choke. His lungs have begun filling with his blood and he is having difficulty breathing. It is amazing in the most atrocious way that he is still alive.
Don't worry brother, we got them, you're going home soon, bird's on its way.
His eyes keep moving and keep looking straight into mine as he slowly drowns in his own blood.
Hey, it's halftime. Get your head in the ****ing game, Ben, get in the ****ing game!
His hands start to close and his arms curl into his chest. He closes his mouth, stares me in the eyes...
Tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick.
Look at them. They know nothing of life yet assume they know about death. They know nothing but how to pretend to live and be content. Reality has never hit them, they have never experienced death and there is no other way to learn about it.
I will teach them all about life, and death, as Ben-G taught me. I will bring them to reality.
They never told me I'd hear my own heart flat line...